Promises Remembered and Renewed
by Meyers1020
Summary: Confused and unable to sleep, Peeta goes for a late night walk in District 13. An incident with Katniss and a long conversation with Prim cause him to learn more than he thought possible, leaving him with resurfaced memories and a lot to consider. Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm and suicide. One-shot. Canon-divergent.


**Update: For anyone receiving a notification, I just fixed a few issues I had missed in my first few rounds of editing. I am considering adding another chapter of the story from the POV of Katniss, but we'll have to see about that.**

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 **A/N: This canon-divergent one-shot is written from Peeta's POV and takes place in** _ **Mockingjay**_ **not too long after Katniss returns from District 2.**

 **You should probably know ahead of time that I have a weakness for broken Katniss (because honestly, what seventeen year old girl could withstand that kind of pressure?) and Peeta's love and concern for her being his saving grace when it comes to recovering from the highjacking. As such, Katniss is likely slightly OOC.**

 **Also, this is the first work of fiction that I have written in at least a dozen years, so try not to be too rough on it. Thanks for giving it a chance.**

 _ **Trigger warning: mentions of self-harm and suicide**_

 **Disclaimer:** _ **The Hunger Games**_ **series and all related content belongs to Suzanne Collins, not me. You will see lines lifted directly from her work however.**

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I toss and turn on the standard issue hospital bed of District Thirteen for what seems like the millionth time. It's not the bright white walls of the hospital room, the scratchy sheets, or the soft snores emanating from the guard posted by the door that are keeping me awake though. Instead it is the swirling, confusing, contradictory thoughts of _her_ reverberating in my head that are keeping me up.

 _It's better than it was at least_ , I remind myself. When I first arrived, I was shackled to the bed to prevent me from hurting myself and others during the violent outbursts that accompanied my flashbacks. I've gotten much better. I still don't like thinking about _her_ name, or _her_ in general, but at least I _can_ now without completely losing it. That's why they've gotten confident enough to let me sleep without the restraints and to reduce the number of guards from two to one. The aforementioned one guard even trusts me enough that he falls asleep every night, just as he is tonight.

If I wasn't already insane before, my swirling thoughts tonight would be enough to drive me over the edge. The doctors here have been working on convincing me that _she_ is not a mutt. That _she_ didn't try to kill me. That any memories that suggest otherwise were planted by the Capitol. That they confused actual events using tracker jacker venom to manipulate me.

I have to admit, it makes some sense. I've noticed a shiny quality to those fearsome memories that is reminiscent of the hallucinations I experienced after being stung in my first games. _Yeah, after_ she _dropped the nest on me._ No one here, not even _her_ , has denied that fact. They even showed me the footage of it. They've been showing me a lot of footage of us, that they claim is undoctored, while giving me a calming drug to help temper my reactions as part of my treatment. It does help somewhat.

Delly has been trying to convince me that _she_ is not a mutt, that _she_ wouldn't hurt me, that _she_ is not trying to hurt anyone. She's wrong though. I know the truth.

I know I can trust Delly though, so the mutt must be an exceptional liar to have convinced her so thoroughly that she can be trusted. That must be it.

Except... except Katniss is a terrible liar. I've seen the footage. I'm surprised anyone believed the story of the "star-crossed lovers".

Delly did make a good point earlier today, too. This afternoon I had finally pushed her to the point that she ran out of patience. Exasperated, she had snapped at me, "Honestly Peet! Don't you think if she wanted to kill you, she would have by now?!"

I had to admit, it's an excellent point. I'm really not anything special, and between all my memories and the footage I've seen, I know that Delly was right. I have memories of us alone in bed on the train that I'm increasingly certain are real. If _she_ wanted to kill me, I would have been easy target then. Yet strangely, all I can remember from those nights is a feeling of comfort and sleep.

Maybe Delly and the doctors are right. I seem to be recalling more memories in which _she_ seems like just a girl, a girl that mattered more than anything to me at the time they occurred. Maybe the bad memories of her as a mutt actually aren't real. As I think of those memories though, fear and rage swell up inside me.

 _Ugh. I'm so confused._ A headache is starting to form behind my eyes. Unable to bear it any longer, I throw off my blankets and slip past my guard, hoping something outside the confines of this sterile room will provide a distraction and ultimately relief.

As it turns out, all of the long corridors in District Thirteen are nothing but virtually identical halls of a drab gray color. I was hoping to find something more interesting to distract me from these swirling thoughts, but I've had no such luck. It would appear this dreary, underground district doesn't have much to offer in the way of color anywhere, at least, not that I've found.

Unfortunately, aside from just being boring, the uniformity of my surroundings has led me to become lost. Even more troubling, I'm sure I'll lose what little independence I've been granted for my recent "progress" if I don't find my way back to the hospital wing before the guard awakens. I don't want to go back to attempting to sleep in restraints.

Several days ago, as part of my treatment, the doctors played me a video of _her_ singing "The Hanging Tree". _She_ was sitting by a lake in what looked like the woods surrounding home. It was haunting and terrifying, but so beautiful even the mockingjays stopped to listen. Even if _she_ is a mutt, I couldn't deny that.

Surprisingly, it didn't bring up flashes of her burning my home to the ground. Instead, it brought back the memory of heat from the bakery ovens, the smell of cinnamon, my father kneading dough, and a similarly captivating voice- the voice of Mr. Everdeen, floating through the open back door as he approached to conduct a trade. I must have been about six, but I remembered what my father had said the first day of school and witnessing the birds stop to listen to her voice when she sang "The Valley Song", so I paused frosting the cookies I had been working on to see if they stopped for Mr. Everdeen. Having seen the respect the mockingjays paid his daughter, I wasn't surprised to learn my father had been right.

 _Ugh. Why am I thinking about this again?_

While it didn't trigger a violent venom-induced episode, it still has left me deeply confused and edgy. I can't reconcile the memory of Mr. Everdeen's song, the girl with two dark braids trailing over her red plaid dress on the first day of school, the girl singing "The Hanging Tree" that appears in the video, and the mutt hell-bent on killing me that resides in most of my memories. Apparently, I'm failing miserably at finding a distraction. All I've managed to do is get lost.

I've been gone for two hours at least, so it must be close to 4 by now. I should still have at least two hours to find my way back before I face any real trouble, but who knows when the guard could wake up. I'm looking around the dull hallway again, illuminated only by dim emergency lights, trying to determine if there's anything marking the walls to help me figure out where I am when I hear it…

" _Are you, are you_

 _Coming to the tree_

 _Where they strung up a man they say murdered three_

 _Strange things did happen here_

 _No stranger would it be_

 _If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree…"_

 _That voice. Midnight. Tree. The lightning tree. "I'll see you at midnight."_ For a moment I'm swept away by memories from the Quarter Quell. I quickly shake them off and struggle to get my bearings again.

My surroundings indicate I'm in a rarely used hallway, filled mostly by storage rooms. _There's no way this is real_. It must be some kind of hallucination brought on by exhaustion and my obsessive thoughts. If I didn't know it before, it's painfully obvious now that I need to get back to my room before I have a complete mental break.

I continue onward, since I already know there is nothing useful back the way I came. The further I go though, the louder the song gets. There's no mistaking it's her voice, and as I get closer to its source and the song becomes louder, I realize it can't be a hallucination- even my imagination could never do the beauty of her voice justice.

"... _wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me._

 _Strange things did happen here,_

 _No stranger would it be_

 _If we met up at midnight, in the hanging tree_."

The song ends and is followed by what sounds like a familiar sob just as I come to stand outside a door that appears to be to a storage room. I've already concluded it wasn't just in my head and the sob seems to indicate it couldn't be the recording I've been shown the past few days. I pause outside the door, debating what to do.

I peek through the glass not daring to believe it really could be who I think it is. I should have realized there was only one possibility and that I wasn't ready to confront it. Because there before me, huddled on the floor with her knees tucked to her chest, sits _her_ , Katniss Everdeen. The girl who haunts my every thought, dream, and nightmare.

At least, I think it's Katniss. She has Katniss' olive skin, grey eyes, and signature braid. However, this is not the Katniss I thought I knew- not the proud child singing "The Valley Song" our first day of school, not the scowling girl I stared at before the games, and definitely not the vicious, bloodthirsty mutt in my nightmares.

No. This girl more closely resembles the eleven year old Katniss that collapsed from exhaustion and hunger against the apple tree behind the bakery that rainy day I tossed her the bread. Her grey eyes are puffy and rimmed red, her breathing erratic, and her hair falling out of her braid, sticking to her wet, sunken cheeks.

I'm momentarily confused as I take in this girl that I thought I knew. She looks up slowly as she registers my shadow come across her field of vision. When her eyes meet mine, I inhale a sharp breath. In all the versions of Katniss that swirl through my hazy mind, there is always a fire there, but none of that fire exists in the eyes of the girl before me. She is undeniably Katniss, but her eyes convey the look of someone who has been irreparably broken.

She drops her gaze almost immediately, staring into her lap as tears continue to slip down her face. I saw the dead look in her eyes though, and the hopelessness there triggered something in me. There's none of the fear or violent impulses that I've been told are a result of the venom conditioning in the Capitol. Instead, there is only concern and a revival of the buried instinct to protect Katniss that stems back to my youth. All I can think in this moment is that I need to do _something_ to help her.

"Katniss..." I breathe out as I open the door and take a step toward her.

At the sound of my voice, her eyes screw shut and starts rocking back and forth while reciting a list of things she knows to be true. I recognize the tactic as something my own doctors have suggested I do when in distress.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. My home is District 12. There is no more District 12. I was in the Hunger Games. I escaped. Peeta was taken prisoner by the Capitol. He was rescued. He is not _my_ Peeta. It's my fault. It's all _my_ _fault_ …" with a pained groan her voice drops after that to an unintelligible murmur.

I approach slowly. As I get closer, it's clear she's trembling as she continues mumbling to herself. It sounds like my name and apologies. She still hasn't moved from her hunched spot on the floor, even when I crouch down just before her. I'm just reaching out to her when my shifting causes the light to change and a flash of silver lined with red in her hand catches my eye.

Immediately, a shock of fear goes through me at the sight of the bloody weapon. Adrenaline floods my bloodstream, accompanied by venom-rage. It screams in my head that the doctors are wrong, Delly is wrong, everyone is wrong about her- Katniss _is_ a mutt that wants to hurt me. The singing, her weakened appearance, the tears, they were all just artifice. Obviously, this was a trap so she could kill me without suspicion.

Under the influence of these thoughts, my hands that had been reaching out to comfort her instead lock around her forearms and pin her to the wall. Her body flies back without much effort at my sudden attack and her weapon clatters to the floor.

Immediately my face is in hers growling, "You thought you could fool me again, lure me in here and finish the job, but you're wrong. I know what you are, _mutt_."

Despite the proximity and my accusations, her head remains down, avoiding eye contact, as she continues to mutter to herself. At this distance I can hear it, the unending stream of "Peeta, Peeta... my fault, my fault… I'm so sorry."

It's clear she's not even talking to me. Despite my hold on her, I may not even be there in her eyes. The thought only enrages me further. She's trying to kill me, been trying to kill me for years, yet she's spitting meaningless apologies into the air and won't even acknowledge my presence? She really is a piece of work.

"Look at me, mutt." I emphasize it by squeezing hard on her forearms that I still have pinned against the wall by her head.

The pain seems to finally break through to her. She flinches and lifts her head at the command. When her crying eyes meet mine again, the dead look is still there, but also something else: resignation. It's as if she's trying to tell me to just _do it_ already.

The look is so hopeless that it startles me. This isn't artifice. Again, those grey eyes, so laced with despair, flash me back to girl who had given up after collapsing in the rain behind the bakery. This one unpolluted memory manages to pull me out of the hazy venom-induced rage enough to start taking in other details of our surroundings.

For the first time, I realize how unnaturally thin and cold her forearms are beneath my hands. I've seen Katniss thin before, and it seems she is as thin as she has ever been now, but it makes no sense for her to be wasting away in District Thirteen. The food pretty much sucks, but everyone is fed enough to thrive. She's the Mockingjay, so there's no way she isn't being taken care of.

The confusion I'm feeling surprisingly helps clear my mind enough to realize something is seriously wrong with her. The concern I feel upon realizing this breaks the rest of my haze. My protective instinct has taken precedence once again. Thinking more clearly, I realize this couldn't have been a trap. This Katniss can barely support her own weight, let alone attack and kill me.

"Katniss.. are you… okay?" I say as I drop my hands and step back. It's a dumb question really when she is so clearly not okay, but my propensity for words seems to have been left behind in the Capitol torture chamber I inhabited.

She doesn't respond, just collapses to the floor again, continuing her soliloquy. Her speech is starting to slur though, and I'm confused. Protective instinct rising, I look more closely at her huddled form and see her wrists and hands are covered in blood, coating even the medical bracelet, identical to the one I'm wearing, that deems her "mentally unstable". Sparing a glance at my own bracelet, I finally notice that my hands are coated in blood too.

 _What is happening here?_ I couldn't have done that with my bare hands during the venom attack, could I?

 _No_. Looking down at Katniss again, I notice the "weapon" that set off my episode in the first place. In reality, it turns out not to be much of a weapon. It's just a small razor blade like the ones used to open large boxes in the kitchens, except this one has blood lining the sharp edge.

As I recognize this, it all comes together. Katniss, looking weak and defeated, hiding in a closet in a remote area, crying, guilty ramblings, singing of death, a bloody razor blade, and bloody wrists- _she did this to herself_. The sudden realization makes everything in my drop.

In my panic, I don't even realize I've dropped to the ground next to her until I'm already wrapping her wrists in attempt to stem the bleeding. I have no idea where the cloth I'm using as bandages came from. All I know is that I'm shaking right alongside her as I'm working on her limp hands.

"Shit, Katniss. _Shit._ We have to control the bleeding until I can get you back to the hospital." I didn't notice I'd been talking to her until she looks back up and acknowledges my presence, cutting off her endless ramblings to herself in favor of speaking directly to me.

"No. No hospital. Just… just stop, okay? It's going to be okay. It's better this way. It was my fault… you were right. It's always been my fault…" Her weak voice trails off at the end and then she chokes back a sob before continuing in barely more than a whisper, "I'm so, _so_ sorry Peeta. I should have just died in the first games. But it's all going to be okay now. I won't be able to hurt anyone anymore."

 _The games, her being responsible for hurting people, hurting me._ Her words trigger fear-filled, venom laced memories- Katniss ripping off the tourniquet at the end of our first games causing me to collapse from blood loss and lose my leg, Katniss pushing me into the forcefield during our second games, District 12 burning to the ground while Katniss laughs as my family dies. Any other time this would all set me off and I'd have snapped her neck already.

Looking into her stricken, pale face and her eyes burdened by both guilt and grief however, I'm struck by other memories. Less bright, more authentic and complex memories. Katniss- pale, fear stricken, with a panicked look on her face as she rushed to stop me when I tried to remove the tourniquet so that she could go home at the end of our first games. Her holding me up and attaching us both to the ladder as we were lifted into the hovercraft when I was losing consciousness from blood loss. Her pounding on the glass as she cried frantically trying to reach me, to protect me as I was dying while the doctors worked over me.

Again, the same pallor to her tear-soaked face after I hit the forcefield and Finnick revived me. The relief in her voice as she cried over me, despite the overwhelming grief and guilt in her expression lingering from the previous minutes of thinking I was dead for good. The way she completely dissolved as she cried out that my heart had stopped and clung desperately to me as if it may spontaneously stop again.

The video of her walking through the ashes of our home district. Horror had been present on her face, but again the grief and guilt echoed in her eyes. Her standing before the ruins of my family's bakery, looking crushed, but still strong as she challenged my call for a ceasefire.

None of that strength is in her eyes now. The grey has weakened to that of ash, showing nothing but the defeat that comes from being crushed by guilt and despair. It crushes me in return to see how simply _broken_ she is. The Girl on Fire no more- she has completely burnt out.

 _Shit._ The doctors were right. Delly was right. She's _not_ a mutt. She doesn't _want_ to hurt me, or anyone else for that matter. She's just a girl who has spent too long having burdens she didn't ask for thrust upon her shoulders, until she finally crumbled under the weight of it all.

There's plenty that is still jumbled in my mind, but I can feel now that I had loved her. All I ever wanted was to be able to take care of her and protect her. What did I do instead? I tried to kill her. I called her a mutt. _I_ told her that everything was her fault.

My name repeated on her lips, her rambling apologies, the guilt, the blade, the blood- it's all _my_ fault. _Holy shit._ I didn't do this when I pinned her to the wall, but I certainly am responsible. All this time blaming her, but they were right. I'm the mutt version of myself, hurting her instead of her hurting me. _What have I done to her?_

The guilt I'm feeling now threatens to crush me too, just as it's done her. Despite the weight of it, I know now is not the time to succumb. Right now, all that matters is protecting Katniss. _I have to save her_.

"Shh, Katniss. Nothing was your fault. I was wrong. I'm so sorry." My voice comes out shaking, reminding me that I'm still trembling as I hold the bandages tight around her wrists. I think I'm crying now too. "It's going to be okay, alright? I'm going to make sure of it."

She's shaking her head back and forth the whole time I'm speaking to her. It's a weak motion, but not in the way that makes me think I've gotten through to her. The weakness of the motion stems from her physical state.

Realizing there won't be any help coming to us here, I abandon clutching her wounds in favor of gathering her up in my arms to go in search of help. She doesn't fight it as I cradle her to my chest bridal style, but then again, maybe she isn't capable of fighting now. I've already seen how weak she is, and I can feel how disturbingly light she is. Significantly lighter than the bags of flour I used to carry at the market.

As I walk back into the drab grey hallway again in search of help, the light illuminates her face and she looks even worse than I thought. Her eyes are half closed even as they stare at something in her hand. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do until I can find help, so I do the only thing I can think of. In an attempt to keep her conscious and lucid, I bring up the one thing I know matters more to her than her own life: Prim.

"Come on, we have to get you help. Think of Prim." I say earnestly, leaning down so my face is practically pressed into her hair.

With another weak shake of her head, she whispers more to herself than me, "Prim will be fine. Thirteen will take care of her. She won't have to worry about me anymore."

I hear the faintest tinge of doubt. It sounds like she's trying to convince herself and I think maybe I have an opening here. I have to convince her to hold on, because she still looks like she's ready to let go at any moment.

We're reaching the end of the hallway now, and it looks like the odds may finally be in my favor, because there's an elevator. At least that will get us _somewhere_. I just need her to hold on a little bit longer.

Mustering as much conviction as I can in my panicked state, I tell her honestly, "You know it's not like that. She loves you. She _needs_ you Katniss."

I can feel the barely discernible shake of her head again as she continues to play with the object in her left hand before whispering, "No one needs me." Despite the weak quality of her voice, it's not said with self-pity. She means it.

Shocked she could write off Prim, and everyone else for that matter, I risk looking down at her. In her palm rests a pearl. Suddenly in my mind I see the beach of Quarter Quell arena, hear her voice saying, " _I do. I need you_.", and can feel her lips on mine as her fingers tangled in my hair. I can still see the look of determination in her eyes as I handed her the pearl, the look that said she still intended to do everything she could to save me, even though it meant she would die trying.

By the time I snap out of these memories, we've reached the elevator. It opens quickly luckily. I don't bother trying to figure out where we need to go, knowing that the tumultuous feelings of guilt, grief, and panic that time is running out, both current and remembered, would never allow me to figure it out. I simply slam my hand against the emergency button and pray they get here fast enough. I take the tiniest bit of comfort in the alarm that immediately sounds and the way the elevator begins to quickly take us to an unknown destination as soon as the doors shut. Hopefully, it's the hospital.

I look down at Katniss again. This time she isn't fingering the pearl, nor is she talking to herself or me. She is limp with her eyes closed. _Shit shit shit._

Burying my face in her hair again and holding her even tighter, I take a deep breath to steady myself. Pulling away to look at her and trying to keep my voice steady, I say, "Come on Kat. We're almost there. Stay with me."

For the briefest moment, it looks like the corners of her mouth quirk up as if she wants to smile. She barely breathes out, "Always," before her head falls back and she loses consciousness completely.

 _No no no._ That one word has conjured up another memory. One of fear that she was dead or gone, lost to the woods, but also of relief, because she had returned largely unharmed and asked me to stay with her under the haze of sleep syrup before she fell asleep.

There is no relief this time though. She is not fine. She is bleeding out on her volition, passed out instead of sleeping, and I am asking her to stay with me, with no idea if she can follow through on her promise of "always".

Clearly I didn't follow through with mine. If I had, we wouldn't be in this position. I never would have said those things to her. She wouldn't have been alone, crushed by guilt and despair. We would have faced everything together, as we had been bound since the first games.

As the elevator continues and she remains lax in my arms, my panic rises. I know now who she is. She's not a mutt. She never was. She was the girl I loved. She _is_ the girl I _still_ love. With this realization, I know there is no option- she has to survive. If she doesn't, then there's nothing left for me. I can't lose her. _I can't._

Mercifully, the elevator doors open, revealing the hospital and a team of medical staff who appear to have been waiting for our arrival. Overcome with worry and knowing that holding onto Katniss would only prevent her from getting treatment and cause more damage, I reluctantly but quickly relinquish my hold on her as the doctors step forward with a gurney. She's hardly even flat on the bed before the doctors converge and she is whisked away for treatment. Only seconds after stepping off the elevator, I am left standing dumbfounded and alone, staring at the double doors that the doctors took Katniss through.

It could be seconds or hours later when a nurse approaches me. I don't pay any mind to her, still staring at the point Katniss disappeared through and praying it wasn't too late. The nurse bends down to retrieve something from the floor next to me before turning to face me.

"Peeta," comes the sweet, young voice laced with concern of the nurse next to me, trying to draw my attention. No other voice could have reached me in this state, with the exception of Katniss', but I know this voice. It's the voice of Primrose Everdeen, and I know I can't ignore her now, not with the state her sister is in.

I turn to look at her, finally abandoning my watch over the double doors. The expression she wears is far too old for her young face. She is clearly distraught over Katniss, but she's also looking at me with concern. I can't think of anything to say, so I just nod numbly, returning her greeting, "Prim."

"The doctors will probably be a while with Katniss. Let's go get you cleaned up, alright?" She asks while gesturing to my body. I follow her gaze to my torso, noticing I'm covered in blood. As it dawns on me just how much blood she must have lost for my hands, arms, and chest to be coated this way, I feel my stomach lurch and barely make it to the garbage can in the corner of the lobby before the vomit comes.

After I have heaved until there's nothing left, I numbly let Prim lead me to an exam room feeling exhausted. I couldn't resist if I wanted to. The truth is I need to get cleaned up. I can't handle being covered in her blood, not knowing if she has enough left in her to survive.

Prim gives me a once over to make sure I'm not injured myself or going into shock. She's talking to me as she takes my vitals, but I'm only half listening as I try not to think about the last few hours. Instead I just I observe her. I'm only able to focus on her words toward the end of her exam.

"...so excited. They're training me to be a doctor. Alright, everything looks as good as it can be. Why don't you head into the bathroom and take a shower. I'll leave you a fresh set of clothes and give you some privacy. Then I'll be back. Sound good?" Somehow she's keeping herself level and handling everything much better than I am. Maybe focusing on me helps to take her mind off it.

Once again, I just nod, heading to the bathroom as she exits the room. I'm grateful for the warm water easing the tension in my shoulders and cleansing my skin, but knowing what I know of Thirteen, it won't last much longer. Sure enough, the water quickly becomes cold. It's a surprisingly welcome thing, considering the physical discomfort distracts me from the discomfort surrounding the events of this night.

Upon exiting the bathroom, I find a stack of what looks like medical scrubs that I'm assuming Prim left for me. I pause when I see the pearl sitting atop the neatly stacked clothing. Gingerly I pick it up as the memories start to swirl again. I quickly put it aside, knowing I can't think about all that right now if I intend to keep it together.

I quickly get dressed and put the pearl in my left pocket. Attempting to redirect my thoughts, I think of the changes I noticed in Prim. Her slight frame has filled out, her nursing uniform actually fits her well, and she had an air of confidence about her as she used all the medical equipment surrounding us, even easily recording all her findings on an electronic tablet unlike anything found in Twelve before the bombing. Didn't she tell me they were training her to be a doctor? Despite the fact that her sister may very well be actually dying in this very hospital at this very moment, she is no longer the crying, screaming girl from our first reaping. She's seems to be thriving. That must have been what Katniss meant when she said Thirteen would take care of Prim…

Luckily, I'm saved from that train of thought when Prim walks back into the room. She tries to give me a smile, but the worry on her face is clear. My expression must show something similar, because she speaks without me asking.

"There's no word on Katniss yet. Our mother is waiting directly outside the room, so she'll get any news immediately. She knows I'm here waiting. As soon as there's something to know, she will tell us."

"Thank you, Prim. I doubt anyone would tell me anything otherwise." It's at least reassuring to know that I'll get updates thanks to Prim.

She just nods her head, acknowledgingly.

There's only a beat of silence before I realize resisting is pointless and I just come out with it. "What was that, Prim? Why would… how could she… just, how could this happen?" I stumble over my words until I finally give up and hang my head.

I can practically hear Prim swallow reflexively as she thinks about how much of her sister's life she is allowed to share. After a pause she says, "There's been a lot going on lately. I'm not sure what you have heard and what you haven't. How about we just start with tonight and see what we can work out?"

I'm already sure there's a lot I don't know, especially about Katniss, since until tonight even her name could set me off. Prim may be right- it's probably best to focus on tonight for now.

"Yeah, alright."

"Okay then. I'll start. Around nine thirty, we woke up to Katniss screaming for you to run. Actually, she does that most nights lately..." Prim trails off and blushes, realizing maybe she's said too much with that last comment when she sees the questioning look on my face.

I certainly do find it confusing. _Me_? That's surprising, considering that even though I didn't try to kill her the last few times we crossed paths, I certainly wasn't nice.

Prim hurries to continue on, "She was hyperventilating by the time I got her to come out of it around 10, which is pretty standard. I know you don't remember anymore what she used to be like after she woke up, but it can takes hours to quiet her down…"

Actually, I _do_ remember. I remember nights on the train during the Victory Tour and in the training center before the Quell. Huh, that _was_ real apparently.

"Tonight was different though. As soon as she woke up, it was like she shut down. She quietly apologized, told me not to worry, and left. I asked Mother about it before we left for our 11 o'clock shift here at the hospital when Kat still hadn't come back yet, but she brushed it off. Katniss is kind of notorious around here for wandering off and hiding in closets for hours on end, but still… it seemed off to me."

Given what my, apparently, correct memories of Katniss and her nightmares are like, Prim was right to worry. I would have. I'm still considering when Prim speaks again.

"So, that's all I know for tonight, until the alarm started ringing at the nurses station when you triggered it in the elevator. It was a good call, by the way. We were able to get the video feed, so we knew what to expect when you arrived."

I guess it's comforting to know I did something right. I try to flash her a grateful smile, but fail. I decide to just start talking, telling her everything I had been thinking about when I couldn't sleep, slipping past the guard, hearing Katniss singing, hearing her affirmations to herself about what is real, my concern about her appearance, and even my episode after seeing the blade.

I pause there though, thinking about her muttered apologies and feeling the crushing guilt resurface from when I snapped out of it and put together the pieces, only to find that this was my fault. Prim must read the guilt on my face, but she seems confused by it. She speaks softly but with conviction as she lays a hand on my arm.

"It's okay, Peeta. It wasn't your fault. I know you didn't do this. It hurts to admit, but I've seen and heard enough to know she chose this. I know she did it herself."

I'd really like to accept her comfort and be absolved of this guilt, but I know it isn't true. Instead I jump up from my seated position, her arm falling away as I grip my hair with both hands and begin to pace.

"But it _is_ Prim. _I'm_ the one that made her feel guilty. Who told her everything terrible that's happened since our first games was her fault. You didn't see the guilt and hopelessness written all over her face. That was because of _me_. _I_ did that to _her_. I was the one hurting her, all while I was blaming her to her face."

Prim is suddenly standing in front of me with her hands on my shoulders, halting my erratic movements. If she were anyone else, I'd probably have pushed her away, but I could never hurt someone as sweet and good as Prim. Anyone who could is pure evil.

Her blue eyes burn with determination as they bore into mine, making sure she has my full attention when she speaks.

"Yes, you said some hurtful things. But you'd been _hijacked._ You had been tortured and were confused. She knows that. The real problem is that she already believed those things, before you said them."

She takes a deep breath as if the next part is harder to say.

"You remember the bread, so you know what happened when our father died. Our mother shut down and we almost died. Katniss is stronger, but even she has a breaking point."

As Prim says this, I again think of connecting her expression tonight to the expression on her eleven year old face that night with the bread. Seeing that expression mirrored on her face tonight is what had snapped me out of the episode. Despite not having witnessed either event, it's as if Prim knows this.

"You saved all our lives that day when she was eleven. You gave her hope. We were lucky that you were in a position where you _could_. The fact that you weren't this time and _couldn't_ be there to save her _is not your fault_." She gives me another stern look before continuing. "This was _not_ your fault. Neither of you are to blame here."

I'm quiet as I think about this. For so much of my life, all I wanted to do was protect Katniss, even when I knew she didn't need it most of the time. That's why I can't shake the thoughts swirling through my head that say _I should have been there for her_. It keeps reverberating throughout my skull, causing wave after wave of guilt to wash over me.

I do have to admit Prim has a point though. What could I have really done besides make it worse? I was in no state to see things clearly until very recently. Maybe not even until tonight, when I almost lost her.

Shouldn't there have been other people in her life though that should have recognized what was going on and helped her? Her mother has a bad track record and I know Katniss hasn't relied on her since she was a child, but still. It's clear Prim noticed and probably tried, but she's still just a child. Katniss would never burden Prim with such dark feelings. Still, that leaves…

"What about Haymitch or Gale?" I ask, giving voice to my thoughts finally. "Shouldn't they have noticed? Done _something_ to help her before something like this happened?"

Prim just gives me a soft, sad smile as if I'm missing something obvious, before saying, "They may have tried. It's not the same though. She doesn't _need_ them. She could never rely on them for something like this."

Again the beach of the Quell flashes through my mind, along with her words. " _I do. I need you."_ Is Prim trying to tell me that I'm the _only_ one that Katniss needs?

Prim seems to understand once again where my thoughts have taken me, because she softly says, "She loves you, you know. Even if she can't admit it to herself."

I'm not sure what to believe at this moment. Prim must read the doubt on my face, because she continues.

"When our father died and our mother retreated into her own head and abandoned us, Katniss wrote off love. She seemed to think that if she didn't let anyone into her life and never fell in love, then she would never be at risk of becoming our mother. You snuck up on her though, without her even realizing it."

If I were to believe Prim's words, then I could finally make sense of so many things about Katniss that confused me before. The way she limited her friendships. The way she consciously kept me at arms length, but unconsciously clung to me, whether it was physically clinging to me under the cover of darkness as we slept or gripping my hand without thinking when she was scared. I'm still processing this as Prim continues.

"Has anyone told you what Katniss was like after the Quell?"

I flinch and grab hold of the edge of the counter trying to fight off the memories of being held captive by the Capitol and all the things they told me about Katniss at that time. The venom surges in my veins and poisons my thoughts. _She left me behind. She burned Twelve to the ground. It's all her fault._

That last thought snaps me out of it, as the sound of her weak voice blaming herself and her deadened eyes staring at me earlier is called to mind. I immediately release the counter and begin stretching my fingers to relieve the cramping in my hands. I turn to Prim ready to apologize and see her frozen, staring at me with wide eyes.

"I-" I've barely started to apologize when she cuts me off.

"I'm so sorry Peeta. I know that must have been a terrible time. I shouldn't have said that," she quickly says before a guilty blush stains her cheeks.

"Really, Prim, it's fine." I quickly reassure her before adding on, "I'm sorry if I scared you though."

She just shakes her head before giving me a reassuring smile.

"You know that was amazing, right? Fighting off a flashback like that. That amount of control is incredible."

I adore Prim. I really do. But is she seriously congratulating me on not spiraling into madness and hurting one of us? Prim is reading me like an open book tonight, because she's quick to apologize again.

"Sorry! Sorry. It's just that, you know I'm on your recovery team, and that was an incredible improvement over even last week…" She trails off as she thinks it through again, before shaking her head and giving another timid smile.

I decide it's better to just humor her. After all, it's this passion and intelligence that has helped me so far. She really will make an amazing doctor.

Shaking my head, I give her a smile back before asking her to continue. The fact is I don't know the truth of what happened, and after everything that has happened since then, I would very much like to. More than that, I want to see where Prim was going with this.

"Right! So… I wasn't there obviously. We didn't arrive for a few days after Katniss did, but when we found her sedated in the hospital, I went looking for answers. Haymitch was being treated for withdrawals so that wasn't helpful, but I noticed his face was covered in scratches when I saw him. Eventually, I found Finnick.

"He wasn't much better than Kat, with what happened with Annie, but he was lucid enough to tell me what happened after she woke up and found out about the rebellion. When she heard… when she heard you had been left behind, she attacked Haymitch, screaming about how he was a liar, how they had a deal to protect you. Finnick had to pull her off so they could sedate her."

 _Katniss attacked Haymitch?_ Shiny memories of Katniss attacking me various ways flash behind my eyes, but I clench my fists and try to beat them back. _She was defending you. It wasn't like that._

Prim continues on, maybe hoping to distract me from my distress. "After that, she refused to eat, drink, or speak. She ignored everyone and would make a fuss until they put her back under."

I close my eyes at that. The thought of her shutting down and essentially drugging herself because of what happened to me hurts, deep inside. Any shiny memories are now banished again as the lead blanket of guilt settles over me.

"It got a bit better after we arrived," Prim says, but there's a sadness to her that doesn't quite match the sentiment. "She started to function at least."

Gauging Prim's distant expression, I can guess there is more to the story. I prod her gently, "But…?"

She sighs before continuing, "But, she didn't _really_. She ate, tried to sleep, spoke when she was spoken to, but she was sleep walking mostly. She ignored her schedule and spent most of her time hiding. Everyone tried to play it off like it was because of the concussion Johanna gave her, but I knew it was more. She missed you. She was worried sick about you," she finishes quietly.

Some forgotten hope inside me swells, but then I remember seeing the propos. She looked well, fierce even. My defences raise.

"What about her Mockingjay duties? I've seen the propos. She was well enough to do that. It couldn't have been that bad."

"This was before, when she was still refusing to be the Mockingjay."

 _Katniss refused?_ "Why.."

"Would she refuse?" I nod. "She never wanted to be the face of the rebellion."

I can see that. As long as I've known her, all Katniss has ever wanted is for her and the people she cares about to _survive_. Antagonizing Snow by being the face of the rebellion certainly doesn't help that cause. Not to mention, she has always hated attention and cameras.

"Did you know the Capitol didn't air your first interview with Caesar until weeks later?"

 _Okay, Prim. Way to change the subject…_

"The doctors may have mentioned it." _Where is she going with this?_

"Until they did, we had no idea if you were alive or dead. All we could do was speculate."

I remember that time too, when I had no idea what was going on with Katniss. I was so worried. I had been grateful it was me in the Capitol instead of her. Imagining our situation reversed makes me tense up. _It's different,_ I remind myself. _She doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about her._

"Then finally, _finally_ , we get to see you on screen looking well. From what I understand, Katniss was so relieved that she actually stroked the image of your face on the screen in front of everyone in command."

That's a little hard to wrap my head around. Katniss doesn't show affection or vulnerability in front of anyone. I'm having a hard time even picturing it.

"But then you called for a ceasefire, and everyone started to insist you were a traitor. Coin wanted to have you tried as a war criminal if you survived. Katniss was so terrified for you that she actually talked to me about it that night. I managed to convince her that she could leverage her acceptance of the Mockingjay role for just about anything."

 _Is Prim trying to tell me that I'm reason Katniss agreed to be the Mockingjay?_ If everything Prim has said is true- that Katniss needs me, loves me even- then I guess it could make sense. More than once she has put herself at risk to ensure the survival of those she loves. If everyone is correct, and my newly surfaced memories are to be believed, she had risked her life for me before. This isn't such a big risk in comparison.

"The next day she went to command with a list of conditions in exchange for her services as the Mockingjay. The most important of which was that you and the remaining captured victors would be granted immunity when you were finally free."

That means she _did_ do it for me. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about that. It's comforting to know she thought of me and did what she could to protect me, but Snow made sure I suffered for it.

"It wasn't exactly an easy negotiation, but in the end she made Coin announce the agreement to all of Thirteen to ensure that she couldn't renege on the deal. Coin subtly threatened her back though. During the announcement, she insinuated that if she didn't meet expectations that the deal would be off, and Katniss would be tried along with you all at the end of the war."

That's certainly a lot of pressure. Especially for Katniss, who does not do well in front of cameras. I'm starting to understand how she could have reached such a low point.

As always, there seems to be more, so Prim continues. "After that, Katniss did everything she could. At that point, we thought you were healthy. It wasn't until the later interviews that we knew something was wrong and she started to crack. After you warned us about the bombing, we saw some of the aftermath on camera… Kat did not take that well."

I shiver as thoughts of that night fill my head. At that point the hijacking torture had already begun, but seeing Katniss on screen had helped jolt me out of it enough for me to want to protect her. Snow did everything in his power to destroy that protective instinct after that night.

Seeing my distress, Prim hurries on, "When we were in the bunker, Katniss finally realized what Snow was doing by holding you, and she blamed herself for everything that had happened to you since the Quell. So when we were let out and they tried to film a propo, she couldn't do it. She had another breakdown and needed to be sedated again. They knew she couldn't do anything without you anymore though, so the rescue team was sent to retrieve you before she even woke up."

I get it now. Prim is trying to say that Katniss must love me, based on her violent reaction when Haymitch left me behind, her mental breakdowns while I was gone, her willingness to do anything to protect me, and the fact that she needed me to function as the Mockingjay. That last point isn't exactly true though. I tell Prim so.

"She's been getting by fine though. Since I got back and tried to kill her, we've hardly interacted at all. She's been out in the districts fighting for the rebellion just fine without me." The last part comes out in a huff.

Prim nods, but also disagrees. "Yeah she has, but she hasn't been _fine_. She's just been angry and letting that anger fuel her. She's running away from the pain and focusing on revenge. She's set on killing Snow for everything he's done to you."

Now that does sound like Katniss, both from what I've witnessed since the hijacking and from what I can remember. She does run from the hard stuff. Anger always seemed to be her first line of defense too. I've witnessed that recently enough to be completely sure of that fact. After considering this briefly, I finally nod. Willing to accept at least that explanation, before asking my own question.

"If she was at least getting by, what changed? How did she go from rage to… to what happened tonight?"

Prim looks troubled and unsure of herself when she responds, "I'm not exactly sure. Things were different after she got back from Two. She seemed distraught, guilty even. I think something happened with Gale too, because he's been different as well. He seems angry."

I clench my fists and grit my teeth as my irritation rises. _Seriously? Prim just spent however long trying to convince me of Katniss' feelings toward me, and now she tells me this is because of some lover's quarrel?_

I'm glaring at her as I manage to spit out, "So Katniss had a fight with her boyfriend and fell to pieces? _Really_?"

Prim gives me a scowl that could rival the one I've seen on Katniss before snapping back at me, "It wasn't like that!"

Startled by the intensity of her reaction, my anger disappears and is replaced by confusion. Recognizing the potential storm has passed, she takes a deep breath to calm herself. She's speaking in a more normal tone when she resumes her story.

"Like I said, it wasn't like _that_. Katniss was more defeated. I want to say she seemed like she was disappointed in Gale? He seemed more irritated by her reaction and defiant." She pauses as she decides either how to word the rest or how much to say. "I'm not sure how much you know about what happened in Two. I don't know all the details even. What I do know is that a lot of miners died when the rebels caused the mountain to collapse with everyone inside. Some managed to get out, but not many, and they were injured."

I shiver as I remember the mine collapse that killed Mr. Everdeen and all those other miners. There's no doubt having to witness that would shake Katniss. Mr. Hawthorne died in the explosion too, I believe.

"I heard engineering the collapse was Gale's idea."

"What!?' I blurt out, shocked. "Didn't his dad die in the mines too? That can't be right."

Prim nods sadly. "Haymitch told me. He and Beetee designed the bomb placement knowing the resulting landslides would block the ventilation shafts and the exits."

"Holy shit. That's- that's insane." _No wonder Katniss was upset. Our side trapped miners in a mine, intentionally, at the suggestion of her best friend._

The look on Prim's face says she understand how Katniss feels. "I know. Since then, she's been having the dream about Dad's death several times a night, every night. I don't think she eats much anymore either."

Judging by how light she was, how thin her arms were and the tired look on her face earlier, I think Prim is right. Everything about her screamed exhaustion.

"It sounds like she was against the plan though. She shouldn't have blamed herself."

"I agree with you, but that's just Katniss. She did everything she could to stop it and save them. They left the train tunnel open, because she insisted. She even got herself shot trying to prevent the escaping miners and rebels from breaking out into a gun fight! But it was just too much for her," she finishes sadly.

Prim remains quiet as I consider everything she said. It's a lot to take in, and some of it is borderline unbelievable. Even in my post-hijacking state, I trust Prim though. I know she's smart and incredibly perceptive. Given everything she has said, I can see how Katniss sank deep enough into to the darkness to do what she did tonight.

"It shouldn't have happened. She didn't deserve this."

"You're right. It shouldn't have gotten this bad," Prim agrees solemnly.

We sit quietly for a while, just waiting for news. So much has been said already tonight that I'm not sure there's much left to say.

As I continue to process everything that has happened, I realize there's one good thing that has happened tonight- I feel more like my old self than I have in a long, long time. Memories and feelings that had been buried as a result of the hijacking are now clear again, and I'm able to clearly recognize the shiny, bright quality to the fear-laced memories that Capitol planted with tracker-jacker venom. So when I notice that the longer we are quiet and Prim is left without any healing duties to attend to, the more anxious she becomes, I reach out and take her hand and offer her comforting words.

"She'll be okay. She's a survivor."

Prim simply squeezes my hand back while flashing a grateful smile.

We're still sitting like that when a gentle knock comes from the door, followed by Mrs. Everdeen quietly entering the room. Prim releases my hand and immediately rushes to her side when she sees the state she is in. Her posture speaks of exhaustion, her eyes are glassy, and her voice has a quality that suggests she's half-here and half-not when she speaks.

"She's stable." Both Prim and I breathe almost identical sighs of relief upon hearing this. "She needed a lot of blood, and it took some time, along with a lot of the medicine Plutarch had smuggled out of the Capitol with him, but the doctors managed to repair the damage she had done. She'll remain sedated for a while."

"Can we see her?" Prim asks her mother after a quick look in my direction.

Realizing that Prim is including me in her use of "we", Mrs. Everdeen shoots me an appraising glance before replying, "I'm not sure that's wi-"

Prim cuts her off before she can finish the sentence. "Peeta is _fine_. You should be thanking him. While all of us who supposedly care about Katniss were busy pretending everything was okay, Peeta saved her life. If _anyone_ has the right to see her, it's him."

While I'm grateful for Prim's quick defense of me, I'm slightly uncomfortable seeing the chastened and crestfallen look on her mother's face. Looking down at her lap, Mrs. Everdeen nods before leading us out of the room.

As we pass through the doorway, I recognize the guard that had been on duty in my room when I snuck out is now stationed outside the door and makes to follow us to our destination. In all that had happened tonight, I had forgotten about my own situation. Worrying about getting back to my room before they noticed I was gone seems like a lifetime ago at this point. If I had thought about it at all though, I would have realized it would take them no time at all to track me down with the entrance Katniss and I made when we arrived.

We finally reach her room. I hesitate before entering, feeling afraid. Mrs. Everdeen hasn't given me another questioning glance, either trusting Prim's assessment of my stability or simply lost in her own mind, but is this really safe? Sure, I was able to carry her to the hospital without hurting her and things seem clearer, but what if the stress gets to me and I relapse? She's in no position to defend herself.

Prim places a gentle hand on my shoulder before quietly saying, "It's okay, Peeta. I can see how worried you are, but I trust you."

Despite the vote of confidence, I'm still feeling unsure. After all that's happened, I couldn't live with myself if I did something to hurt her, physically or with my words.

Prim suddenly looks a little guilty and embarrassed as she quickly adds, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume. If you don't _want_ to, that's okay too! I shouldn't-"

I don't even let her finish the thought before reassuring her, "No. I do want to. I just don't want to put her in any more danger."

At this Prim brightens considerably before taking my hand and pushing the door open. Before we enter though, she turns to my guard and fixes him with a hard glare. The fierceness of her actions seems out of place on a girl of not yet fourteen.

"You will stay out here, unless you are directly called for. This is family only," she says forcefully before dragging me into the room.

It turns out my trepidation was unnecessary. As I take in the still form of Katniss lying in her hospital bed and the sterile bandages wrapped around her wrists, it's not a shiny, violent image I'm assaulted with. Instead, my mind recalls similar images of Katniss passed out from blood loss in the cave during our first games after she risked her life to get the medicine that saved mine. I feel the same worry I felt then and the desperate longing for her to wake up and just _be okay_.

Certain that my hijacked self has vanished, at least for now, I reach out and gently stroke her forehead where I had once bandaged the wound from Clove's knife. I give voice to my thoughts, just as I did back then in the cave, whispering to her, "Please be okay. I _need_ you to be okay."

Mrs. Everdeen clearing her throat brings me back to the present and reminds me that I'm not in the cave alone with Katniss. She looks conflicted as she glances between Katniss' inert form, Prim, and I, before speaking.

"I… I can't…" She pauses and hitches a breath before continuing, "Katniss should be out for quite some time. There's nothing I can do here. The hospital is short staffed without Prim and I. I'm going to go tend to patients."

She immediately rushes from the room after that. I'm left feeling both sympathy for her and also immense irritation. I know this is hard, but even if Katniss doesn't need her at this exact moment, what about Prim? This is hard for her too. Not to mention, Katniss will wake up eventually. Shouldn't she be here for her then?

Prim doesn't seem to echo my irritation. She simply sighs before standing up from the chair she had been occupying before saying to me, "I should go make sure she's alright. She's right that Katniss should be alright for a while. Besides, I know you'll look after her for us."

She doesn't wait for a response before leaving to find and comfort her mother.

Once again, I'm left shocked by her confidence in me. I very nearly killed her sister when I first got back from the Capitol. She knows I nearly attacked Katniss again tonight before I snapped out of it. Yet here she is, trusting me to watch over her alone and instructing the guard to stay out of the way.

I'd like to focus on my irritation with Mrs. Everdeen. I know she lost it when her husband died and essentially forced an eleven year old Katniss to keep the three of them alive, but I thought she had gotten better over the years. Now as one daughter lies recovering from a suicide attempt, her youngest daughter is forced to comfort her as she runs away, when it should be the other way around.

My attempt at masking my worry with irritation fails quickly. I can't focus on anything but the girl in front of me. She's not even conscious, but I can't help wishing there was something, _anything_ , I could do for her in this moment.

Suddenly, the pearl comes to mind. I fish it out of my pocket and hold it in my left hand, observing it. She had seemed so fixated on it, even as she was losing consciousness. As I conjure up the memories and feelings surrounding the small object, I realize when I gave it to her was the last time we were relatively safe and together before all hell broke loose.

Acting on instinct, I slide my hand underneath her own, gently so as not to disturb anything. My palm rests facing up with the pearl nestled between us. It feels like a promise- that somehow we will get back to the way we were the first time I handed her this pearl. Insane as it may be, it's somehow reassuring.

Her skin on mine is soothing too. It causes a million memories of gentle touches between us to swirl in my mind. As I focus on the feel of her hand and the calmness of those memories, I further relax. It occurs to me that I haven't slept in a long time. At least a full day, and the last time I did manage to sleep, it wasn't well. Suddenly overwhelmingly tired, I lean forward in my chair to rest my head on the bed next to our hands and promptly fall asleep.

I'm not sure how much time has passed when I wake up. My neck is stiff, but I do feel more rested. I notice a blanket had been draped over my shoulders. _Prim must have been in to check on everything._ Just then, I hear voices outside the door and realize that must be what woke me up.

"Sorry, soldier. Orders are only immediate family members are allowed access to Soldier Everdeen's room at present," the guard says rigidly to someone.

"Seriously?!" _Gale._ "I'm her best friend," I can almost hear him grit his teeth before he spits out, "and her cousin."

 _Wow._ He must be desperate to see her if he's willing to use that line. As much as I don't want to see the guy and as unprepared as I am to interact with him, I'm about to get up to vouch for him when I hear Haymitch intervene.

"Hawthorne! Let it go. You're not the only one who wants to see her. Come on, we've got a section in the waiting room." there's a pause before he snarls, "Now!"

I can faintly hear Gale cursing under his breath before it fades, along with both of their footsteps.

Turning my attention back to Katniss, I take in her appearance. She looks a bit better, with some of her color having returned. I don't realize I've been playing with her fingers absently until I feel them twitch in response.

I freeze. "Katniss?"

"Peeta," she breathes in a whisper as her eyelids flutter open.

The relief I feel upon seeing her eyes again is so ridiculously sweet that I may just laugh, or cry. I think I do a little of both as I stroke her hair and lean in so our foreheads touch before breathing out, "Thank God. You're okay."

I don't think about how the proximity may affect her until I see her eyes widen. I quickly pull back, but freeze again at the question that she asks.

"So, I'm dead then, huh?"

 _What?_ "No. No, Katniss you're fine. You're going to be okay." I sputter out.

Her grey gaze looks at me confusedly for a moment. She attempts to lift her hand, but promptly gives up with a groan of pain before speaking.

"You're right. Hurts too much to be death."

I might laugh at the comment if I wasn't so worried about her pain. I'm about to offer to call a nurse for some meds when she speaks again to herself. Instead I stop, straining to hear her whispers. I think she says something like "hallucination" before her whispers devolve into incomprehensible muttering. Remembering her mumblings when I found her in the closet earlier, I panic and quickly try to draw her attention.

"Hey. Hey Katniss, talk to me. What are you thinking about?" I look directly into her eyes as I cup her cheek with my right hand, so my left can keep it's position below her.

She leans her face into my palm and sighs quietly before saying, "I've missed you."

My heart seems to swell at the confession, but confusion wars with hope in my chest. Maybe I'm dreaming right now. It's not like Katniss to make that kind of admission. _Is she still under the influence of drugs?_ That seems unlikely, since she just said she was in pain.

Shocking me even further, she says, "Come here. Lay with me."

Still reeling from the unexpected request, I respond as gently as I can. "I don't think that's a good idea. I wouldn't want to hurt you or disturb anything," I say, gesturing to her bandaged wrists and the IV attached to her.

I had expected her to agree, but she shakes her head before responding, "No, you wouldn't. You couldn't. You're not real."

 _What?! Not real? Is that what she meant by hallucination?_ "I'm here, Katniss. I can assure you, I'm real." I smile at her, trying to mask my concern.

Another weak shake of her head. She's insistent, but sad when she replies, "You can't be. You're looking at me like you love me right now. But you don't look at me like that anymore. You don't love me anymore."

Her voice breaks at the end and the tear that slides down her cheek is enough to crush everything inside me. _What have I done to her?_ I'm choked up myself when I lean in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, hoping to comfort her.

It somewhat works. She gives a content sigh, but then huffs when I pull away. She's actually _whining_ when asks, "Please?" Her bottom lip even sticks out, forming an attractive pout.

I've never seen her act like this. I almost look around for cameras, to see if she's just pretending. Then I remind myself that she doesn't even believe I'm really here right now. _She's not acting._

I realize she thinks all of this is happening in her head. That's why she's behaving like this. _This must be what she's really like beneath the scowl and impassive mask._

If I was still confused about who or what she was before this moment, that's gone now. It's abundantly clear that she's just a girl, every bit as vulnerable as the next person. There is no more doubt. She is not the vicious mutt the Capitol would have had me believe. She is and always has been the girl I've loved since I was five years old, before I even really knew what it meant to love someone.

Brushing her hair back again, I say, "I can't." She tries to interrupt, but I continue over her coming objections. "But I won't leave, okay? Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

She looks uncertain, as if she doesn't believe me. Considering she thinks I'm a hallucination, she probably _does_ think I'll disappear if she falls asleep. Exhaustion is winning though. I can see her eyelids are drooping even as she struggles to keep them open.

Mustering whatever energy she has left, she sleepily says, "Promise me. Promise me you'll stay with me."

Remembering the last time I made that promise and her promise in return earlier, I give her the promise I know she's looking for. I do it for her, but also for me. I make sure she can hear the vow in my voice when I answer.

"Always."

When she hears the answer she was looking for, she stops fighting and let's herself relax further into the bed. She gives a little squeeze with the hand still resting in mine atop the pearl before her breath evens out. I lean in and press a kiss to her temple when I think she's fallen asleep.

I inhale the scent of her hair before whispering against her skin, "I love you, Katniss. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

She's either not as asleep as I thought or she has incorporated my actions into a dream, because a smile ghosts across her face as she mumbles in return, "I love you, Peeta."

She doesn't speak again after that, and I sit in stunned silence trying to process everything. Could this possibly be real? I started the night debating if Katniss was human, I almost attacked her, and I saved her life. That I can believe I guess. But then Prim tells me Katniss loves me, I can sort out my memories enough to realize Katniss _is_ actually the girl I am in love with, and Katniss unknowingly confirms she loves me too? That all seems too fantastical to be true.

I must have fallen asleep again as I was thinking, because the next thing I know there is a gasp that startles me awake. I snap my eyes up to see the wide, grey eyes of Katniss locked on mine. She reaches out and touches my face before pulling her hand back to her mouth in shock.

"You're… you're really here?"

I nod, scrutinizing her expression and trying to read the emotions there.

"So that means… before… oh god." I barely have time to see the blush rising up her neck and cheeks before she buries her face in both hands. She mumbles something like, "...can't believe I said all that."

I clutch the now exposed pearl and I gently try to coax her out from behind her hands. "Hey, it's okay. Please, just look at me."

It takes a few minutes before she complies. When she finally does, I take a deep breath to collect myself before deciding to just come out with what I've been thinking about. Things can't get much worse between us than they were 24 hours ago anyway. Locking eyes with her, I do my best to speak with conviction.

"Look, there's a lot we need to talk about. A lot has happened. For now though, you should know I've figured out enough to be able to tell you this with certainty: I love you, Katniss Everdeen. I'm here now, and as long as you'll tolerate me, I'll stay with you. I won't forget again."

She looks at me apprehensively, but there's an edge of hope there too. She's studying me, looking for something. I keep my gaze steady, hoping she finds whatever she's searching for there.

I guess she sees something reassuring, because eventually she gives a small smile and simply says, "Okay."

The action brings back another memory. This one is of us on the rooftop of the Tribute Center before the Quell. It brings a smile to my face.

With the memory fresh in my mind, I ask, "Then, you'll allow it?"

Her smile widens in response, upon realizing I remember the moment too, before confirming, "I'll allow it."

I'm not entirely sure what this all means. I do know that I feel lighter and a hope I haven't known in a long time is spreading in my chest. Taking a risk, I lean in toward her, pressing our foreheads together again and angling my face so my lips hover close enough that she can choose to close the distance if she wants to.

I can feel her breathing stop as she sucks in a breath and holds it. I'm just about to pull away, not wanting to upset her so soon after everything, when she exhales and leans in, pressing her lips to mine. It's soft and quick, but it's sweet, warm, and full of hope. When we pull away, we're wearing matching shy smiles.

Despite the uncertainty of everything and the need for some difficult conversations in the very near future, there's a peace between us in this one moment that leads me to believe everything will somehow be okay. We've found our way back together somehow. I have to believe we can make it through everything else as long as we stay this way- together.


End file.
